A Trog By Any Other Name
by Kettch-22
Summary: 625 embarks on a quest for a name, with some reluctant help from Gantu, of course. Cliche ridden and ninty nine percent fat free!


**A TROG BY ANY OTHER NAME**

I've been reading the 625 fics in the _Lilo & Stitch_ section, and I must say I'm quite annoyed by the constant need to rename 625. It just bothers me, I don't know why. Even Bluefox Gantu's Lover and Mate isn't immune to the what I've termed the "Must Name 625" syndrome, if you'll recall the fourteenth chapter to "Hear My Voice, Come Back From the Light."

CAST OF THOUSANDS: We do. And it bothered us, too.

ME: What are you doing here? Wait, why do I even bother asking that question?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: We don't know.

ME: Because I'm mysterious?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Because you're psycho.

So this is a response of sorts to this whole irky little thing. Judge accordingly.

* * *

Gantu was working on the hyper drive—or, more accurately, temporarily demolishing the hyper drive and cursing the hyper drive colorfully in various alien tongues, when he sensed a presence.

625 was seated in a chair pulled up next to where Gantu was working and was most uncharacteristically silent. His double chin was cupped in his pudgy paws, every overweight inch of him dripping with despair and an internal angst noticeable to anyone.

Gantu ignored him successfully for a good fifteen minutes, until long, gusty sighs began emerging from the direction of the chair. Gantu held out for several more minutes, until a particularly drawn-out sigh that seemed to originate from 625's very soul caused Gantu to sigh as well—his in resignation—and asked what he knew 625 wanted him ask. "What's the matter, 625?"

625 raised a paw to wipe a nonexistent tear from his cheek and sighed tragically again. "A true man keeps his troubles locked in his breast," 625 intoned pathetically.

"You're not a man," Gantu replied, "or you weren't the last time I checked."

"It's too awful to tell," 625 said dramatically.

"Tell me," Gantu said grimly.

"Well, since you really want to know, I," 625 began, "am depressed."

"Hmm," Gantu commented, having wonderful visions of 625 as a deep depression in the ground. "Go on."

"I was content in my lonely existence, friendless, _nameless_, until I realized something." 625 paused for a dramatic effect and glanced surreptitiously at Gantu to see how he was taking this.

"It came to me in a vision as I was meditating one morning, trying to reach Nirvana so I could talk to Buddha and get a live concert and some autographs.

"I saw flowers, insects, stuffed animals, humans, cheese," 625 continued. "I resisted these images, unsure of their meaning, when suddenly it came to me: they all had names. Even the lowliest rodent is assigned a scientific genus and species, and a cell number," he added, thinking of one rodent in particular that he knew quite well."

Gantu resisted the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. "So you want a name?" he asked.

"Quiet! I'm not finished," 625 snapped. "So as I was soaking up this divine knowledge, it hit me."

_Like a ton of bricks?_ Gantu thought hopefully.

"That though that lowly mouse may have a hard existence trying to find enough crumbs to feed his family and avoiding the puddycats, he has the sole comfort of knowing that he possesses a name and not simply a mere number," 625 continued.

"What about lab rats?" asked Gantu. "Don't they have numbers?"

625 ignored him. "This vision revealed to me that the one thing I need to be truly happy, besides a tuna on rye, is—" he paused again, "a Name."

Gantu stared at him for a few moments in silence.

625 added, "And I want you to help me find one."

Gantu wondered if there was any point in protesting and decided there was probably not. "What about 'Brad?'" he said finally.

"I _do_ resemble Brad Pitt," 625 agreed, "what with my astonishing good looks and all, but I don't think that name's really me."

Gantu thought again. "'Robbie?' It means "gentle guardian" on my home planet," he added at 625's confused look.

"I don't think so," said 625. "I'd prefer something with a little more, oh, I don't know, pizzazz."

"'Sandwich Boy?'" Gantu said, recalling that annoying little Hawaiian girl's nickname for 625.

"That's a maybe," 625 decided. "It definitely reflects my passion, though I'm not sure that it has a respectful tone to it. What else have ya got?"

"How about 'Sam?'" Gantu suggested. "You could do something where you combine a name and your number. 'Sam 625?'"

"I don't particularly want to be named after some fat hairy guy with obnoxiously large hairy feet who says 'taters,'" 625 responded.

"I always wanted to have a dog named 'Sandy,'" Gantu said a little wistfully.

"No," said 625. "No dogs."

"Or maybe 'Milton?'" Gantu said, and with that suggestion, he found himself on a mission to the local library and several town bookstores to acquire a large number of baby name books.

. . .

After several hours of perusing the books, both experiment and alien began to get a bit cranky.

"This books says that a name should reflect personality. What think, Sloth Boy?" asked Gantu snottily.

"Could be, Thimble Brain," responded 625.

"Alexander?"

"No."

"Augustus?"

"No _way_."

"Pluto?"

"No dogs!"

"Abigail?"

"That's a _girl's _name!"

"Ol' Yeller?"

"I _told _you, no dogs!"

"The little girl gives a lot of the experiments verb names. Thoughts on 'Eater?'"

"Another maybe."

"'Owen?'"

"Do I _look_ like an 'Owen' to you?" 625 demanded crossly, looking somewhat insulted.

"'Zach?'"

"Zach, Zach, Zach," said 625, trying out the name. "Nope."

. . .

For the next two days and nights, the pair ate, slept, and breathed names. During the process, Gantu made notes of several names that he planned to use for future dogs, but sadly, the baby name books offered no names for poor 625.

"Maybe we should just give up," Gantu said rather plaintively after he thought this whole thing had gone on far too long.

"But I've _got_ to find a name if I want to find eternal bliss," 625 reminded him.

"Why don't you just keep '625?'" Gantu said in desperation. "It wouldn't be a number f you spelled it out. 'Six-two-five.' I think it has a nice ring to it."

625 growled in frustration. "_Not_ exactly what I was searching for."

"Just pick one!" Gantu begged. "Just pick one and be done with it. This has gone on long enough. I'm starting to have nightmares with names written across the insides of my eyelids!"

"But if it's not the right name, Buddha will know, and I'll never find my eternal bliss!" 625 said rather strongly.

Gantu was suddenly given an idea. "You know, 625," he said cunningly, "I always thought you'd already found eternal bliss."

625 eyed him suspiciously. "What makes you say that?"

Gantu spoke in an authoritative voice that no one ever responded to. "You eternal bliss isn't Nirvana or Utopia," he said coaxingly. "You have eternal bliss whenever you're with your sandwiches."

The light in 625's eyes suddenly went on at this powerful oration. "That's right!" he agreed fervently, pleased to have found a suitable excuse for ending his quest. "Who needs eternal bliss when you've got sandwiches?" At this, he emitted another sigh, but this one was of utter joy and sweet bliss as he contemplated his beloved hoagies.

Gantu sagged in relief. "Thank goodness this is over," he murmured.

"Where do you think you're going?" 625 called after him as Gantu attempted to escape. "I've found my happiness without eternal bliss, but think of all those poor lost souls who _haven't_! We've got to name them _all_!"

"Oh, blitznak," Gantu said sadly.

* * *

Well, I hoped you found this whole little fic mildly funny, because it was supposed to be. This is also a sort of practice run for a long, angsty 625/Gantu fic that's in the works. It should be up in a couple of weeks, or maybe months. But it will be up eventually.

The whole point of this thing was just to make the point that 625 probably doesn't need a name, because we're all used to thinking of him as '625' (well, I am, at least) and when people rename him, he just looses a central part of his character. I'm not bashing those who _do_ rename him (heavens, no! I love all of your fics!), I'm just saying that I don't think he needs it. It's just my opinion, and everybody's entitled to an opinion, right?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Everybody but you.

ME: Why not me?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Because you're psycho.

And as always, review! Oh, and if you're looking for a really intriguing _Pirates of the Caribbean _fic, visit my story "Return to the Black Pearl," now on it's tenth chapter! (Sorry, guys, couldn't resist the plug.)


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